


Scars Are Souvenirs

by Enmuse (Scifiroots)



Series: Shook the Bones [3]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Graphic Description of Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Introspection, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Pre-Slash, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-29
Updated: 2009-09-29
Packaged: 2017-11-12 16:52:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scifiroots/pseuds/Enmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Scars are souvenirs you never lose, The past is never far</i> – Goo Goo Dolls, "Name"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars Are Souvenirs

\--- --- ---

Five hours and twenty-five minutes, Hotch noted when he glimpsed the clock.

He stood with Gideon by the boards set up in the squad room. He surveyed the busy room with a deceptively calm gaze. JJ was updating Garcia in their appropriated meeting room; Morgan and Prentiss were combing through the latest crime scene with forensics.

Detective Howard approached them and murmured softly to Gideon. Hotch glanced sidelong at the detective, realizing that she had recognized his underlying mood and wanted to stay out of his way. He waited for her to walk away before turning to Gideon.

The older agent lifted an eyebrow at him in silent inquiry. Gideon pointed to the door and Hotch followed him out. They ended up in an observation room.

"What did she say?" Hotch asked when the silence dragged on.

"Miller's truck is being taken to the lab as we speak. Onsite survey revealed blood in the pickup bed." Gideon's gaze remained firm.

Hotch let out a steady breath, consciously keeping himself from shuddering. "How much?"

"Nowhere near enough to indicate death," Gideon said. After a few minutes, which Hotch knew the other man gave him to organize his thoughts, Gideon added, "He was covered with a tarp, wedged between some lumber Miller was hauling."

Hotch nodded in acknowledgement but his mind was preoccupied with mentally reviewing the details of their case. "He won't keep dragging Reid with him," he murmured. Gideon's grim expression confirmed that he'd been waiting for Hotch to say it. Shit.

"We need to know where he's headed. Miller's ready to leave his final mark."

"I'm checking with JJ and Garcia," Hotch decided, turning sharply. "Call Morgan and keep me updated about the truck." He didn't wait for Gideon's confirmation.

Five hours, forty-five minutes gone. Hotch knew they were on a countdown now, the entire squad room vibrated with the knowledge, but no one knew how long they had.

\---

Hotch sat in the front seat next to Detective Howard as they sped down Arlington Road. Still some ways ahead Hotch could see the motionless machinery of construction work silhouetted in the rising sun. Garcia had pulled some fancy footwork and followed a convoluted lead to find a property loosely connected to Miller. The city was rezoning numerous areas, including the conversion of rundown housing to condos and a shopping mall.

"About to get bumpy," Howard warned, her fingers curling tightly around the wheel. Hotch continued to stare out the windshield, anxious for the vehicle to skirt current construction and get to Miller.

Twelve hours and seventeen minutes since Reid disappeared. Hotch had already said his prayers, now he was entrusting his faith to his team and local law enforcement.

"There!" Hotch pointed out a sagging duplex with boarded-up windows. The house next to it had already been demolished, the rubble crowding into the long-dead lawn.

Hotch shoved open the car door as Howard slowed. She snatched his wrist as she rolled to a stop. "Agent Hotchner," she snapped, "we need backup."

Hotch glared at her and pulled out of her hold. "My agent's in there with a sexual sadist set on making a permanent mark on my team."

She sighed but let him go. A moment later she was at his side, buckling her Kevlar vest. They kept low, guns and flashlights out as they approached the front door from opposite sides. The hinges groaned as Howard pushed it open and from somewhere in the house they could hear voices.

Hotch took the lead, signaling Howard as they moved. His gaze took in the details of their surroundings, but his focus remained on the sounds ahead. Only Miller's voice, now, accompanied by harsh breathing and frequent pained whimpers. As he and the detective edged along the walls toward the kitchen, Hotch prepared himself for what they would see. For now his goal was to get Reid clear, details of his injuries would have to wait.

Although Howard had kept their approach silent, sirens sounded in the distance. Hotch finally caught a glimpse of Miller as the man shifted in the kitchen.

"They're coming for us, Spencer. They're coming to take you back, like they took my women, my things. Tried to erase me and my memory." Reid choked back a groan. Hotch quickly and silently indicated his plan to Howard. "But they can't banish me now. _You_ won't forget me, will you, Reid?"

"FBI, hands in the air!" Hotch took up position behind Miller and leveled his gun at Miller's head. He quickly assessed Reid's position and was satisfied Miller had stepped far enough away to leave the agent free from the line of fire.

Miller turned to smile at Hotch, a smug twist of his lips. He raised his arms in a shrug, one hand clutching a hunting knife and the other wrapped around Reid's gun. "You must be the agent in charge."

"Drop the weapons or I'll shoot," Hotch warned, though he wouldn't mind taking care of the guy immediately.

Miller's smile just widened. "You haven't even looked yet, have you?" His eyes flickered briefly to the side, glancing back at his captive. "You know, it's obvious you want to shoot me. Why don't I make it easy for you?" Miller moved quickly, his body going into position to aim at Detective Howard. His finger squeezed the trigger an instant before Hotch's bullet lodged itself in Miller's brain.

"Damn it!" Howard cursed. Hotch bent to pick up Reid's gun and check Miller's pulse. Nothing. He glanced at the detective and she waved him off. "Glancing blow, won't even need stitches."

Hotch crouched next to Reid, who'd been bound to a chair. The younger agent's eyes were unfocused when Hotch touched his cheek. Hotch started a cursory exploration of the wounds and froze almost immediately when he realized that the strange, slippery substance beneath the toe of his shoes was more than blood. He stared in horror at Reid's left forearm, skinned down to the dermis along a roughly four-inch length spread across the inner arm.

"Shit," Hotch hissed, a litany of curses repeating in his head. He looked up at Reid and saw the young man's eyes fluttering shut, his breaths harsh and uneven. "He's going into shock!" he shouted at Howard. "Come on, Reid. Hear that? The team's here and we've got an ambulance. Hold on."

Hotch noted dried blood flaking off the skin of Reid's neck most likely from the blow Miller used to incapacitate him. A trickle of darkened blood trailed down Reid's chin from where he'd bitten his lip. Reid's right wrist showed swelling from a possible sprain or break. Hotch grimaced at the sight of loose skin, a little over an inch, folded back from where Miller had begun more of his work.

"Out of the way."

He hadn't heard anyone else come in. An EMT bumped him aside and Hotch gradually regained his focus. He stood shakily as two emergency techs started treatment for shock while freeing Reid from his bonds.

A hand on his shoulder jolted Hotch from his focus. He met Gideon's gaze, hating that he was too jostled to keep control of his worry.

"Morgan's ready to go to the hospital. Ride with him and let the EMTs do their work." Gideon eased Reid's gun from Hotch's grasp. "This is evidence for now," he reminded gently.

They turned as Reid was lifted and placed on the gurney.

"Go." Hotch didn't need further encouragement.

\---

"Hey, guys. We got coffee." JJ held out the cardboard tray to the men in the waiting room. Hotch took a cup mostly to give his hands something to do. Morgan offered a half-hearted smile in gratitude.

Prentiss took a seat next to Hotch. "Detective Howard bullied her way out of heading to the hospital any time soon." A small grin quirked her lips. "She's determined to head the wrap-up at the scene, let us round up here. Gideon said he'll stay until the scene's cleared."

"Where's Reid?" JJ asked quietly, gaze darting to the ER doors.

"They called the burn unit when he came in," Morgan said.

JJ blanched. "What did Miller…" She took a deep breath and tried again. "What happened?"

Hotch knew all eyes turned to him. He concentrated on his coffee cup, focusing on its warmth to ground him as the scene played out in his mind.

"Miller had no interest in killing him." _You won't forget me, will you?_ "He was just biding his time for us to arrive. Suicide by cop." Miller hadn't cared about his aim when shooting at Howard. No, he didn't care about killing anymore, it was about torture and leaving scars.

"Hotch?" Prentiss' voice was surprisingly gentle as she guided him back to the present.

Clearing his throat, Hotch continued, "His wrist looked broken. The blood in the truck was from a head wound." His gaze trailed to the exposed skin of his wrists. His mind provided a detailed image of Reid's arm – skin gone, veins dark, muscle sinew visible… "The unsub cut into his arm." Hotch pretended to drink his coffee as an excuse to pause. "He'll need a skin graft. Burn unit."

JJ shuddered and leaned into the arm Morgan had wrapped around her shoulder.

Prentiss looked grim. When she spoke, she caught Hotch's eye. "Miller wanted to leave something Reid would never forget."

Hotch didn't look away when he corrected, "The unsub wanted all of us to remember him." _Skin cleaved from the body of his agent on the floor, slippery under his shoes._

"He won't win," Morgan muttered.

Hotch clenched his jaw, knowing that he wouldn't be able to forget. Morgan had to know none of them was likely to forget, but whatever his meaning, it escaped Hotch's understanding for the moment.

\---

Gideon joined them shortly after a doctor came out to inform the team on Reid's status. The staff would keep a careful eye on him during his recovery from the concussion. His wrist was sprained badly but would be the easiest injury to move past. Reid's primary doctor, Maryanne Keane, and a burn unit specialist consulted regarding the use of artificial skin or skin grafts. For the right arm where the skin had not been fully severed, sutures had taken care to prepare the area for healing. A skin graft for the other arm would be the best choice.

The doctor continued. Hotch felt sick as she calmly informed the team of additional cutting along Reid's hip. Miller had dug into the flesh deep enough to ensure permanent scarring. She didn't explain if there had been a pattern to the wounds but Hotch knew by her studiously blank expression that there was something significant there.

They were allowed questions at the end of her summary and assured that they would be allowed in briefly once Reid had been moved to a private room.

\---

The hospital staff allowed two visitors in at a time to see Reid. Hotch hesitated a moment before agreeing to be part of the first pair. Morgan kept two steps ahead of him, obviously anxious to see his friend. Only Gideon and Hotch had seen Reid at the scene.

When they reached the doorway, Reid turned his head to face them. Morgan promptly dragged the provided chair over to the bed and sat down on Reid's good side. Hotch studied Reid's arm, turned palm-up with the arm supported by a cushion. What looked to be a thick coat of ointment glistened over the skinned patch of flesh.

"Hi," Reid said quietly. His gaze flickered self-consciously to his arm; a moment later he seemed to look anywhere else, though didn't meet his teammates' eyes.

"It's good to see you, man," Morgan said. He patted Reid on the shoulder. "Garcia wants to talk to you as soon as possible. Make sure you're prepared for exuberant mother-henning."

Hotch almost smiled at that. All of the team had at least once stayed in the hospital for injuries, and Garcia tended to get exceedingly protective in the aftermath. She got all the more worked up when something happened to Morgan, and given her obvious affection for Reid, Hotch suspected similar treatment.

"She makes a mean chicken soup," Hotch contributed.

Reid blinked in confusion. "Isn't that the folk remedy for the common cold?"

"And it's 'good for the soul'," Morgan explained with a tolerant eye-roll. "But Garcia does make pretty good care packages when you're stuck on medical leave. Bet you can get anything you want from her with your puppy-dog eyes."

Hotch was glad to see Reid's amusement. There was still something haunted in his eyes, but it wasn't dragging him under – at least not yet. Hotch stood by silently as Morgan continued to coax small smiles from their bedridden colleague.

After a while a nurse knocked on the door frame and announced, "I believe Agent Reid has additional friends that wish to see him?" She arched her eyebrow pointedly. "Fifteen minutes left for everyone, then we have doctor's orders not to let you in until normal visiting hours start in the morning."

Morgan stood up but leaned over and slowly brought up his hand – so as to give Reid warning – and ruffled the agent's hair. "Take care, kid. I'll see you later."

Reid wore a blank expression when Morgan pulled away. Hotch would have liked to establish some form of contact – a simple hand on the arm to feel the reassuring warmth of life – but he recognized Reid's already stretched-thin tolerance for physical contact. Instead, Hotch caught the young man's gaze and nodded. He murmured a soft "good night" and followed the nurse into the hall.

\---

Dr. Keane pulled Hotch aside the next day to discuss further treatment. She explained that it would be best for Reid to get his skin graft at a hospital he could return to for check-ins. Since his other injuries were not critical, she felt confident Reid could travel and check into Potomac Hospital in Virginia.

"I've spoken with Potomac staff about the situation and had a conversation with Dr. Reid this morning about his options. Before making the necessary arrangements I wanted to clear this with you as the supervisory agent." Dr. Keane held out a clipboard with forms to sign. "I need to go over with you or one of your other agents how to transport Dr. Reid safely. If you're able to leave today, the surgeon in Virginia may be able to schedule the graft for tomorrow morning, otherwise the next opening isn't until the day after."

Hotch skimmed through the forms. "We should be able to leave this evening," he agreed. "Make the appointment. I'll see to Dr. Reid's care during travel."

Dr. Keane smiled. "Great. You look over the forms, sign where marked, and I'll be back after talking with Potomac."

"Thanks." Hotch tucked the clipboard under his arm as he made his way to Reid's room where the rest of the team had gathered. Somehow they managed to fit three chairs and yet leave some floor space. Gideon leaned against a wall with his arms crossed, a small smile on his face as he watched Reid try to argue with JJ for some coffee. Hotch joined him against the wall.

"Good news?" Gideon asked without turning his head.

"We'll fly back to Quantico tonight and get Reid checked in at Potomac. They should be able to do the graft for his arm in the morning."

Gideon nodded. "Good. I'll make the call to the airport then head back to the hotel." This time he turned to Hotch; "Do you want me to pack your things?"

Hotch blinked in confusion. "I can go back. I'm mostly packed."

"Why don't you stay," Gideon suggested, his expression deceptively blank. Hotch knew a setup when he saw it, he just wasn't sure what Gideon expected him to do.

"Alright," he agreed cautiously.

"Hey guys, what're you muttering about?" Prentiss called from across the room.

Hotch noticed Reid watching him patiently. He held up the clipboard and replied, "Release forms – temporary. We're heading back to Virginia tonight." He moved closer to the bed and met Reid's gaze. "They'll fit you in tomorrow morning. This should cut down on your hospital stay."

Reid nodded acceptance.

"Are you feeling up to travel?" JJ asked, concern apparent in her tone

"They'll switch me to a higher dosage of acetaminophen this afternoon after a final check on possible complications from the concussion," Reid explained. "It's just a little pain, JJ, I'll be fine."

Morgan teased, "But we all know how much you like to bounce around on the plane, you'll just have to take it easy this time."

"Think I'll take the chance to sleep without interruption." Reid did look exhausted. Hotch doubted he'd slept more than five hours straight in the past four days. The case had everyone working late hours, and after his abduction and then frequent checks due to the concussion, Reid would have had little rest.

"Sounds like a good plan," Hotch murmured. He glanced at the rest of the team. "Pack up your things and check out at the hotel. Gideon's securing our flight. I have some forms to fill out and need to speak with Dr. Keane again."

Prentiss and JJ exchanged a silent look. The blonde eventually nodded with a small smile and stood up. "Come on, Morgan. We've got some packing to do."

In response to Morgan's reluctant expression, Reid said, "I'll live without you for an hour. Just promise me some decent food when you return."

"We'll check with your doctor," JJ replied.

Gideon took the lead as they left. Prentiss motioned Hotch to a chair next to her.

After a minute of silence, Reid closed his eyes with a sigh. "I don't appreciate being stared at," he muttered.

Hotch exchanged a quick glance at Prentiss, suddenly realizing that they were positioned similar to how they first met; except Reid didn't wear cuffs this time and instead of a table separating them, they had a hospital bed.

"Well I'd offer chess," Prentiss said, "but you'd whip my ass."

Reid rolled his eyes. "I don't think I'm up to my usual capacity."

"Did Gideon leave a set?"

Prentiss leaned over and picked up a travel board. "You're going to chance it?" she asked, a smirk crossing her lips.

Hotch raised an eyebrow at Reid. "Promise you won't beat the pants off me?"

Looking amused, Reid said, "We're not playing strip chess, Hotch."

"Have you done that?" Prentiss laughed. She began setting up the board on the swing table.

Reid smiled mysteriously. "Wouldn't you like to know."

By his third move, Reid's grimace at stretching to move the pieces got Emily to step in. "You tell me the move, I'll make it," she instructed, giving Reid a no-nonsense look that was meant to be obeyed. The fact that Reid didn't protest indicated his level of pain.

Hotch didn't feel terribly outmatched, though he eventually tipped his king in acknowledgement of checkmate. Reid smiled tiredly at his visitors and dozed off, head tilted to the side and hair draping over his cheek. His lips parted as he breathed. Prentiss bit her lip as she held back a chuckle. Hotch ducked his head so she wouldn't see his smile.

\---

Hotch approved Reid's medical leave for a week, assured by both medical staff and the patient that much of the healing process would be complete by then. He did warn Reid that his return wouldn't involve immediate return to the field, something that the younger agent argued against, as had been expected.

As Morgan and Hotch predicted, Garcia swooped in to provide an abundant care package as soon as Reid got home and called daily to check on things. She also dropped by every other day to be extra sure that he was taking care of himself. Prentiss accompanied her once, as did Morgan, and he also stopped by on his own. JJ spent her Saturday with Reid, bringing over Thai food and a few sci-fi movies as a bribe.

Hotch visited at the hospital, but after Gideon drove Reid home he stayed away. He had plenty of work to do, with additional paperwork due to the kidnapping of a team member and subsequent medical treatments. Midweek a report came in from the psychologist to note Reid's reaction to the case didn't reveal anything unexpected and that he should be cleared for field duty shortly after his return to work. However, for the next few weeks he would have weekly sessions.

During Reid's absence Hotch picked up his phone countless times and sometimes got to the point that the number came up on his screen before he tucked the cell away. Even if they were… friends, his position as supervisor made Hotch feel uncertain about how Reid would take his call. Then again, he wasn't sure "how" he wanted Reid to interpret his call, nor did he understand why it mattered to him.

He distracted himself with paperwork and consults on the pile of requests that always gathered in the BAU inbox. During the weekend he managed to spend Saturday with Jack. The next day he busied himself with blocking the tangle of thoughts and emotions wrapped up with Reid that had somehow snuck up on him.

\---

Hotch never made a call, but he did take part in the "welcome back" plans. Garcia delegated work and Hotch ended up purchasing the gift card for a nearby coffee shop; "For all the hours he's going to be stuck here with me," Garcia explained.

Although Morgan had offered to carpool, Reid drove in on his own. Hotch was up in his office finishing a phone call when he heard the team reacting to Reid's arrival. Gideon met Hotch outside his door and they watched as Reid sidestepped every hand that tried to make contact with him. He managed a slight smile each time and eventually moved the attention to the basket Garcia had set on his desk.

"His avoidance is more pronounced," Gideon remarked. "He has a long way to go."

Hotch gave a tight nod of agreement. If Reid wasn't making progress on his contact issues in the psych session, maybe it was time to call him on it.

Gideon seemed to read his mind. "I'm not the right person for that conversation, Aaron."

Hotch shot him a startled look. "Any particular reason why? He admires you."

"I'm his mentor," Gideon acknowledged. "But I'm not hands-on."

"And I am?" Hotch asked skeptically. He paid attention to his agents, certainly, and taking the statement more literally, he did feel comfortable offering casual touches. But he didn't pry into the team's private lives and generally did not step into personal problems unless they truly compromised someone's work.

Gideon crossed his arms on the railing and watched Hotch calmly as he stated, "You care about this. For personal reasons, perhaps more than the professional."

Puzzled, Hotch looked down at the bullpen and back to his colleague. "I get the feeling I'm not going to like what you're implying."

Gideon offered his mysterious smile. "Look at them." He nodded to the group below. "Consider what you're feeling. Then think about how your reaction would differ if I had been in the situation – or Elle, or anyone else besides Reid."

Hotch kept his expression carefully blank. His mind had already made the jump towards the tangled thoughts that had been pressing on him recently. "I think you're fishing, Jason," he said coolly.

Turning back to the team, Hotch found Reid looking up at them with a curious expression. When their gazes met, Reid tilted his head slightly and offered a tentative smile. Hotch caught his breath, heart suddenly hammering in his chest. The younger agent quickly looked away, tucking his hair nervously behind his ear. Morgan caught him up in a conversation and Hotch could almost physically feel the moment pass.

Gideon's amused voice recaptured his attention, "Sometimes you don't have to be searching for it."

 _I don't want it_ , Hotch thought, numb and a little desperate. He didn't hear if Gideon said anything else, only knew that a moment later he stood alone.

\--- --- ---

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I know it sucks to stop there. The ending was a bitch to write. Actually, in general I ran into complications, largely because I got caught up in needing to know things about the injuries Reid incurred. (Although you'll note not a lot of detail came in here *facepalm* This always happens to me.)
> 
> What to expect in the next story(stories?)… Rossi. I figured out a way to tie him in since fanfic has certainly intrigued me and I'm getting used to his character as I make my way through season three. Also, if you couldn't guess by the beginning half of this, importance will be placed on the physical scars inflicted.


End file.
